


Bruised Ego

by Jinx72



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Accidentally turned into Deceit angst in ch2, Angst, Buckle up, Deceit Angst, Family, Gen, Good Deceit, It's Roman Angst Friendos, Literal Bruises, Painkillers Mention, Roman angst, Self-Hatred, Strangling, eventual family, just FYI, self-deprecating thoughts, sympathetic deceit, yeah a dude gets strangled
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-05
Updated: 2018-06-11
Packaged: 2019-05-18 10:03:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14850699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jinx72/pseuds/Jinx72
Summary: Roman couldn’t decide whether he should tell someone or not. Or, in the very least, ask one of the others to get him some painkillers.He lay there, room only illuminated by his desktop lamp. He really ought to sit up. He may’ve missed dinner.Roman struggled with himself, only to give up after the dull aches flared throughout his body as he tried to move. He let out a defeated sigh. Looks like he wasn’t going anywhere tonight. That’s fine. He wasn’t hungry.Cross-posted from my tumblr - djpurple3.tumblr.com





	1. Chapter 1

Roman couldn’t decide whether he should tell someone or not. Or, in the very least, ask one of the others to get him some painkillers.  
He lay there, room only illuminated by his desktop lamp. He really ought to sit up. He may’ve missed dinner.  
Roman struggled with himself, only to give up after the dull aches flared throughout his body as he tried to move. He let out a defeated sigh. Looks like he wasn’t going anywhere tonight. That’s fine. He wasn’t hungry.

Reflecting on the latest video, Roman wished he’d been more careful with his words. He didn’t mind them personally, but the _fans._  
They didn’t like it at all.  
Or maybe they just didn’t like him. They had made _that_ pretty clear.

It didn’t help, also, that Thomas had gotten some more hate comments. Nothing bad, really. Nothing that Patton couldn’t shrug off and Logan couldn’t talk through. Thomas was fine. He was used to it.  
Personally, Roman doubted he’d ever grow accustomed to it.

There were some phrases that Roman felt Thomas’ mind didn’t need to take literally. He didn’t like it when Thomas’ ego was bruised.  
But he complained too much. No one likes a whiner, he reminded himself.

Yes, this week had been particularly bad. It wasn’t unusual for him to collect little bruises as the days went by, usually the size of a coin, or if it was a little worse, nothing bigger than your average cookie. However, these last few days hadn’t been especially kind to Roman.

They’d said lots of things. That he was just seeking attention. That he was hogging Logan’s limelight. That he was so up himself and they _hated_ that. Hated _him._  
Roman couldn’t blame them, really. Agreed with them, even. And _that_ , oh, that felt like he’d been pummelled with a baseball bat. Great purple, blue and black bruises had blossomed all over his body. He was fortunate this time that there were none on the visible parts of him, like his face or his hands. He _had_ had to wear his higher-collared coat today though, as some bruises had formed at the base of his neck. It hurt to turn his head.  
Everything hurt, really. But he’d begun to complain about it a couple days ago and no one was in the mood. So he shut up. Roman was an actor; he could take a cue.  
His phone was a little too out of reach. With a little more effort and a lower pain tolerance, Roman might’ve been able to bring himself to reach for it. He’d tried about five minutes ago. His protesting body had told him otherwise.  
A bath might do him good, if he could bring himself to push past it. God, he hadn’t hurt this much since the Fanders had been hating him for mistreating Virgil.  
Of course, he deserved that too.

It never happened to the others. Only him, as Thomas’ ego. But everything said about not only Thomas, but the other sides too, every negative thing dyed his skin in painful splotches. And since Deceit was introduced to them?  
Oh boy, did _that_ hurt.  
Roman stared up at the ceiling, trying in vain to imaging the pain going away. It never worked. He didn’t know why he ever thought it would. Another stupid idea. All he was good for.  
He tried to be surprised at these thoughts, that they’d come to him, but he knew himself well enough. He really ought to tell someone, he mused. Patton, maybe? Virgil? Even Logan? Or maybe the character Thomas had created for these things. Picani. But Roman wasn’t in the mood to summon him. And he knew that the others would think he missed dinner on a creative binge, and they wouldn’t disturb him. He threw a hissy fit once (at the time he had denied it as a hissy fit, but let’s be honest, that’s exactly what it was) when Logan disturbed him and it had accidentally (not that the others would believe that, but oh well) resulted in some broken plates. So now, they left him well enough alone until it’d been over 48 hours, or he came out by himself.  
_‘Came out,’_ thought Roman, with a pained smile. _‘Ha.’_  
That smile disappeared as soon as it came. Stupid joke. Stupid Roman. Stupid, stupid, _stupi-_  
His bedroom door opened.  
Roman jolted in surprise, his head automatically turning. He didn’t get far, crying out softly and letting his head fall back. Sucking in a hissing breath, Roman did his best to blink away the sudden tears of pain that had randomly appeared as someone entered, and the door shut swiftly.  
“Who’s there?” Roman called.  
“Your Majesty,” the person crowed.  
Roman’s face fell. “Oh,” he said. “… hello, Deceit.”

Deceit finally came into his line of view, standing over him. Roman couldn’t help but notice that the look in the Side’s eyes was a lot gentler than he’d expected. Deceit sat down gently, hesitantly, on Roman’s bed. Roman tried not to wince, and did his best to shuffle over to give him some room. He tried to lift his head to keep the Side in his line of vision but he couldn’t really tilt his chin down for long. He stared up at the ceiling. “What do you want?” he asked, curt, but not unkind.  
Deceit shifted awkwardly. “I’m sure you know,” he said softly, “that I’m summoned by continuous lying, Creativity.”  
Roman blinked long. “Yes, I’m more than aware,” he replied dryly. “But why are you here?”  
Deceit looked down at him. Roman could barely see him in his peripherals. Deceit went to reply, before he shook his head. He stood. “You look _so_ comfortable, Roman,” Deceit said sarcastically, his normal tone returning to his voice. He summoned an armful of soft pillows. “I’m not going to help you.”

Roman now sat up at about a 45-degree angle, propped up by Deceit’s pillows. Deceit had dragged Roman’s spinny chair from his desk over to his bedside so he wouldn’t jolt the prince. He’d also helped Roman change into his far softer pyjamas. Those clothes didn’t dig into him when lying down, which was the last thing Roman needed.  Roman smiled, thankful despite how his body was protesting from all that movement. “Thanks, Dee,” he said.  
Deceit looked away. “Roman,” he said quietly, that soft, _sincere_ tone creeping back into his voice. “I am summoned by continuous lying.”  
“You said that before,” Roman replied, consciously putting what Deceit meant out of mind.  
Deceit turned to him, his eyes boring into Roman’s soul. “And I know what those lies are,” he continued, gentle yet pointed.  
Roman’s face fell.  
“So I know what goes on in here,” Deceit added, reaching out and gently touching Roman’s temple with two fingers. Roman winced, not in pain, but at the realisation. He couldn’t even hate himself right. God, how pathetic.  
“There,” Deceit suddenly said. “That.”  
“What?”  
“You are not pathetic. And there should not be a right way to hate yourself.” Deceit looked down at his own lap. “You are not stupid. Thomas’ fans do not hate you. The others care. They do not think you are a brat, or are any less than them.”  
Roman tried not to cry. He pressed his lips together and closed his eyes. “You are Deceit,” he whispered hoarsely. “You’re lying.”  
Deceit’s face changed, and he did his best to hide the pained frown. “I’m sorry, Roman,” he said.  
Roman’s eyes opened.  
“I’m sorry I brought so much pain to you,” Deceit continued. His tone… This was his honest tone. It was rare, but obvious when you knew what to listen for. “I know it hurts you.”  
Roman looked anywhere but the other side.  
“I know you don’t want to go to the others.”  
Roman closed his eyes, trying to mask his grimace.  
“I know what you think about yourself.”  
“And?” he spat out, trying with all his might to keep himself together.  
“And?” Deceit replied, blinking in surprise. The expression fell. “And… I’m sorry.”  
Roman let out a bark of bitter laughter. “It’s not just you,” he replied, opening his eyes and staring up at the ceiling. The tears finally slipped out. Silently dripping down his temples. And it hurt too much to dry them.  
Deceit took a handkerchief from a pocket and gently dried Roman’s eyes. Roman let his eyes close again. He wished for a brief moment that the others could see this. Not his sorry state, but Deceit. Right here and now. That he wasn’t always a villain. That he could be kind. That he deserved their friendship too. Deceit looked away, and, with some difficulty, schooled his face into a neutral expression. “Don’t kid yourself, Roman,” he whispered, doing his best to keep his voice even. “We don’t need to get my hopes up like that.”  
Roman’s eyes snapped open as Deceit stood. “It wasn’t a lie!” he called, even as Deceit moved the chair back into place and headed towards the door. “Deceit!”  
Deceit paused for a moment. He turned back to the prince on his bed, struggling to turn and look at him. “I’ll get you some painkillers,” he murmured, before leaving.  
Roman did his best to sit up. He tried to swing his legs around. He tried to follow him. But, _god,_ he didn’t get far before he ended up on the floor.

Deceit scoped out the lower floor from the landing at the top of the stairs. The lounge seemed empty. So did the kitchen. After pausing for a second, Deceit confirmed there was no sound of anyone down here. And down he went, down the stairs, two at a time. Striding across the kitchen, he opened the medicine cupboard and began to search for paracetamol, ibuprofen, anything they had to help the prince. As he found a box of them, a voice made him jump.  
“What are _you_ doing here, Deceit?”  
Deceit knocked his head on the open cupboard door. Curses flew out of his lips as his free hand cradled the bump. He turned sharply, and saw Logan standing there, arms folded. Logan took him in, eyes flying between his face, the open cupboard, and the box of painkillers in his hand. Deceit glanced at the box he was holding too. “They’re, uh, for me,” he mumbled.  
Logan sighed, but stepped back to let him out of the kitchen. Deceit took the hint, closed the cupboard hurriedly, and grabbed a glass before hurrying out of the kitchen and back up the stairs, not sparing the logical side a backwards glance.  
“Do you really need the whole box?” Logan called after him.  
“No,” lied Deceit, booking it up the stairs.  
Logan didn’t say anything more.  
Deceit tucked the box away in a pocket before quickly ducking into the bathroom. He filled up the glass, praying he didn’t bump into anyone else, before hurrying back to Roman’s room and letting himself in. Roman was sprawled on the floor, curled in a ball. A spike of guilt lanced Deceit’s gut. He didn’t want to hurt Thomas’ ego. One of his primary functions was to protect it. He honestly didn’t want to cause Roman any pain. So he quickly set the glass and the box of painkillers down on Roman’s bedside table and helped Roman to his feet as gently as possible. Roman glanced between the painkillers and him, his eyes welling with unshed tears. Deceit couldn’t tell if they were of pain or of relief; he was never great at emotions.  
Silently, Deceit helped Roman back into bed. He opened the box, popped a couple tablets out and placed them in Roman’s hand. He put the glass in Roman’s other hand. Roman took a steadying breath, before quickly swinging his hand up to his mouth. He chucked the painkillers in, and with the same swift, reckless movement, brought the glass to his lips. Gulping them down, Roman gasped a heaving breath at the _pain_ the movement caused. Deceit let him recover, before helping him lie down and tucking him in. Roman tried to fight him, but Deceit had unwittingly placed one of his hands over a mighty bruise on Roman’s shoulder, and he whimpered instead. Deceit hastily retracted his hands like he’d been burned. “The painkillers should kick in in about fifteen minutes,” he mumbled, backing away towards the door. Roman watched him go.  
“Deceit?” he called gently.  
Deceit paused, a hand on the doorknob.  
“Thank you,” Roman said, putting on a brave smile. “This means a lot to me.”  
Deceit fought a little smile off of his own face. “I-I hope you have a horrible night’s sleep, and you feel awful tomorrow,” he retorted, fumbling his way through his words. Roman’s smile relaxed into a genuine one. “Thanks, Deceit,” he murmured.  
Deceit nodded curtly, before flat-out bolting out the door.  
Roman lay back against the pillows, the emotional exhaustion catching up with him.  
He drifted off with that smile still on his face.


	2. But Bruises Heal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Deceit gets discovered helping Roman, and Roman confronts the others on their treatment of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oooooooooooooooooooookay I did not intend for this to have a second chapter but DavidtheTraveller inspired me to write more so here we go.  
> Warning: someone gets strangled.  
> I'mma just leave that there.  
> Enjoy, friendos
> 
> Also! Apologies for mistakes. I don't think there should be many but you never know when you don't have a proofreader lol

He hadn’t intended to be seen. Deceit thought he was careful. But there was a churning in his gut he couldn’t ignore the next day, each time he passed the prince’s door. Was Roman okay? He didn’t go downstairs, knowing he had to tread lightly, but he was fairly certain that wasn’t a question he’d heard the others ask. He saw Virgil and Logan at the dining table, eating breakfast with Patton. They didn’t ask where Roman was. They didn’t come up and get him. Didn’t even spare a glance upstairs. He knew they hadn’t because if they had, Deceit’s frankly terrible hiding place from behind the bannister would’ve been revealed. Patton set aside some French toast he’d made, which was most likely soggy after about three minutes. The way they acted, that Roman not appearing was _normal,_ it made Deceit feel awful. They knew he wasn’t at dinner; Virgil had hovered outside Roman’s door for a solid seven or eight minutes before he completely lost the courage to knock, and headed downstairs. He knew Roman would be starving, though he’d never admit it. So he waited.  
And he waited.

Slowly, everyone began to disperse, enough that he could sneak into the kitchen. It was about eleven o’clock. Far too late for breakfast, and still logistically too early for lunch. Deceit snuck past Patton, who was lying on the couch, eyes closed, headphones on. He could hear the music blasting from the headphones as he slunk past. It was too loud to be healthy. Tinnitus was no joke, he felt like telling him, but didn’t want to ruin his chances at helping Roman. Maybe he’d leave Logan a note. Logan would be able to talk Patton out of such habits.

Deceit grabbed the toast off the counter, lip curling at the soggy bread. He dug through the cupboard as quietly as possible, trying to find anything else. Having loaded up his arms, Deceit snuck back, glancing continuously at Patton as he passed. To his relief, Morality seemed out of it. He didn’t notice the music was off. As he booked it up the stairs as loudly as he dared, he missed Patton’s eyes opening. As he knocked on Roman’s door, he didn’t hear Patton climb the stairs. He entered before heard a reply. As he nudged the door closed behind him with his hip, Roman sat up slowly in his bed, admittedly easier than yesterday. He smiled at Deceit, and Deceit couldn’t help but smile back. He approached quickly, setting out what he’d brought on Roman’s bedside table. Roman’s eyes lit up, despite how the prince tried to mask it. “Do you need anyth-” Deceit began, picking the empty glass up off Roman’s bedside table.  
“What are you doing to Roman?!” someone shouted.  
Roman flinched, pain flashing in his eyes at the jolt. Deceit jumped, a startled shriek tearing itself from his lips, the glass falling from his hands. He whipped around as the glass shattered, having struck the corner of the bedside table before hitting the carpet.  
There, in Roman’s doorway, stood Patton.

The fire in Patton’s eyes was dangerous and smouldering. That kind of barely-reined-in fury Deceit had only ever seen directed at himself.  Deceit took a hasty step back, and winced at the crunching of glass underfoot. Patton stormed over. He grabbed Deceit by the cloak and dragged him away from Roman, putting himself in between the two. “Patton!” Roman shouted, trying to reach for them, jolting upright. He hissed in pain, biting his lip to muffle it, but Patton heard it, head snapping towards him. “What did he do to you?!” he demanded.   
Patton’s expression shifted into one of horror when he saw the bruises that Roman’s pyjamas didn’t quite cover. The grip around Deceit’s cloak disappeared. Before Deceit could figure out why, Patton gripped his _throat_ instead and slammed him against the wall.  
_“Leave Roman alone,_ ” he hissed.  
Deceit couldn’t speak. Couldn’t force any words out of his lips, lies or otherwise. He squeaked out something unintelligible. _“Do you understand me?”_ Patton growled.  
It was all Deceit could do to nod. As Patton let him go, he slumped to the floor, one hand flying to his throat. Deceit ducked his head, trying to hide the tears as best he could. He prayed that if Patton noticed them, he’d think it was from pain rather than actual grief. He only wanted to _help._

“Deceit!” Roman cried, struggling with himself to get out of bed.   
“Roman, don’t,” Deceit choked out as Roman swung his legs out of bed. “The glass.”  
Roman’s feet hovered a couple centimetres over the carpet. He rolled his eyes, snapped his fingers, and the glass disappeared.   
“Roman?” Patton asked in surprise as the prince, with heaving breaths, got to his feet. Imagine his shock when Roman shoved him backwards angrily. Patton went down heavily, landing on Roman’s bed with a soft _whump._  
Roman made it almost to Deceit, before he ended up on the floor with him, gasping from the agonising ache across his body. Deceit coughed harshly into a gloved hand, before doing his best to help the Side to his feet. “Deceit,” Roman rushed, forcing himself up to his knees. “Are you okay?”  
“I’m fine,” Deceit lied, ruining one of his silk gloves to quickly, roughly, dash away those traitorous tears. “I’m _fine.”_  
“What is going on here?” Patton demanded, rising to his feet again. “Roman, get away from him!”  
“ _You_ get away from _him_!” Roman shouted, glaring at Patton. “You strangled him!”  
“Look at what _he_ did to you!” Patton snarled, gesturing wildly.  
“He didn’t do thi-” Roman was interrupted by Deceit raising a hand in slow defeat.  
“I did this,” he rasped. “I am not going to leave now, and I don’t care about Rom- about _Creativity’s_ wellbeing. I hate you all.”  
And with that, Deceit shakily forced himself to his feet, helping Roman up, before gently pushing off Roman’s grip. He hurried from the room, stumbling into the doorframe before he made it out the door. Roman tried to follow, but didn’t get far.  
Patton watched in hostile confusion.   
Deceit stumbled past Logan in the hall as he rushed back to his room. Logan stared at him with suspicion as he hacked violent coughs into his fist. As Deceit bolted into his room, Logan rushed towards the source of the commotion.

“You don’t _understand-”_ Roman was shouting.  
“He only hurts people, Roman!” Patton was yelling back.  
Logan entered, causing the two to look at him. “What is going on here?” Logan demanded.   
“Patton strangled Deceit!” Roman cried.  
Logan blinked. “And?” he queried.  
The hurt in Roman’s eyes was surprising. And the fury that sparked. “You… You monsters!” the prince screeched. “You don’t understand, and you don’t _listen!_ You all never have! I understand why Virgil couldn’t stand us!”  
The other two stared at him with wide eyes.   
Roman staggered to his bed, collapsing down on it with a _thump._ He rubbed his forehead tiredly, summoning a glass of water with his free hand. He went on to fumble with a box of painkillers on his bedside cabinet, which was next to what Logan recognised as his breakfast, which had been set aside, and some other things that look like they’d been haphazardly snatched from the pantry. However, his gaze was fixed on the box of painkillers. He’d seen them before.  
He’d seen them-  
_Deceit._  
Deceit had them in hand last night. He had said they were for him. He had…  
What?  
Roman chugged two tablets down with jerky, painful movements. Feeling the others’ eyes on him, he glared at them defensively.  
“What?” he snapped.  
“Those painkillers,” Logan stated. “Deceit fetched them from the kitchen last night. I caught him.”  
Patton’s head turned towards the logical side as Roman loosed a bark of bitter laughter.   
“You _caught_ him,” he replied mockingly. “He wasn’t stealing them, specs. He got them for _me.”_  
Logan’s brow creased as he pieced this information together. Roman looked away, fuming quietly, as Patton slowly approached him. Patton sat down next to him, care shining in his eyes. “Are you okay?” he asked quietly.  
Roman’s head snapped around, which made him bite his lip from the pain, but he glared accusingly at Patton. “You ask that now?” he growled. “Asking that before you _strangled someone_ might’ve been grand!”  
“I-I thought you were in danger!” Patton shot back weakly.  
“You _assumed_ Deceit was the bad guy, huh? Like we all _assumed_ Virgil was!” Roman snipped. That comment quieted the other Sides down.   
Roman deflated, face scrunching up as his breathing picked up. He was aching so badly from all this movement. It hurt, it hurt, it _hurt._  
“Do you know what Deceit’s goal is?” he asked, his voice hanging in the air.  
“Self-preservation,” Logan replied quietly, folding his arms.  
He jolted back as Roman laughed. This was a dull, hollow sound. Roman shook his head as vehemently as he dared.   
“Deceit’s main goal is to protect Thomas’ ego,” he said. “And guess who that is?”  
The words hung in the air.  
He stared at Logan, and then at Patton, to see if his message had sunken in.  
Logan’s face the most shocked Roman had ever seen him, and Patton was as white as a sheet.  
“Wh-” Logan began, walking over to Roman’s desk and lowering himself into Roman’s chair slowly. His voice died on him, but he tried again. “What is he protecting you from?”  
Roman laughed that horrible, dull laugh again, and nodded towards the top drawer on his desk.  
Patton got up and joined Logan there as Logan opened the drawer. Sitting there was a red folder. Logan took it out and glanced at Roman. “What’s this?” Patton asked, leaning over Logan’s shoulder, one hand gripping the desk hard.   
Roman looked away. “It’s organised by person, and in alphabetical order. Well, I put Thomas at the front, but… yeah.”  
Logan and Patton glanced at each other. Logan opened it, letting the folder sit flat on the desk. As they began to read the words there, Patton gasped in horror, a hand flying to his mouth. Logan blinked. He read, and reread, and _reread the page._ He flicked through the section about Thomas. He flicked through the section about himself, Patton, Virgil, _Deceit,_ (and boy, was that one big,) before opening it to the one about Roman.  
Hate comments.  
Every one of them.

Logan skimmed the pages, frantically flipping from section to section as Patton slowly turned back, tears in his eyes. Roman was struggling to get his shirt off, biting his lip _hard_ as he lifted his arms over his head. He had to show them. Patton cried out when he saw what was under it.

Roman’s bare chest and back was discoloured and bruised all the way from his shoulders to his waistband, and most likely below it, too. All down his arms, and when Patton dropped his gaze to where his pants finished, even his ankles were bruised. Roman took hissing breaths through gritted teeth, and Patton wasn’t sure if it was through pain or fury.  
Patton rushed over, hands clapped over his mouth. “What can we do?” he begged, tears falling.   
“The bruises will fade,” Roman said. “But you _must_ apologise to Deceit.”

From Deceit’s room, the snake-like Side’s head shot up when he heard _‘the bruises will fade,’_ echo through his head. He shot to his feet, shaking his head. The stupid prince. They didn’t just _fade,_ and they both knew that. He strode over to his door, before freezing. Patton _strangled_ him. He shouldn’t go back. He _shouldn’t._ But Roman was going to hurt himself further. Oh, why was doing the right thing so painful?  
Deceit let his forehead thump into his door, his hat already having been discarded. It made a dull, satisfying sound. He did it again.   
He froze as he heard footsteps in the corridor outside.  
He bit his lip as he heard them stop outside his door.  
His fang drew blood when they knocked.  
Deceit breathed in, breathed out, breathed in, breathed out…  
and opened the door.

Patton stood on the other side of the door. He looked guilty. He looked sorry. Deceit felt sick to his stomach. “Roman-” he began.  
“Roman explained,” Patton said plainly, tears leaking from under his glasses. “Roman explained everything.”  
“Not everything,” Deceit protested. “The bruises-”  
“Stop focussing on _me_ for five minutes, will you?” he heard Roman call. Deceit’s head snapped to the side to see Roman, being supported by Logan, in the corridor.   
“We apologise, Deceit,” Logan murmured.  
Patton ran a hand through his hair. “I-I’m sorry I strangled you,” he mumbled through tears.  
Deceit couldn’t stop a hand going to his throat. He wouldn’t admit it to them, but he was petrified that they were going to turn on him right now.  “It’s _not_ okay,” he stammered, taking a hasty step back. “I’m confident you won’t do it again.”  
Patton, as always, saw through the lie. He put his head in his hands. “You know I’m not normally violent,” he rushed. “I-I just… when I saw you standing over Roman like that I panicked.”  
Deceit’s face fell, though his masked it. “I am the bad guy,” he declared softly, that honest tone colouring his voice sadly. “It is understandable.”  
“Falsehood!” shouted Roman passionately, pulling away from Logan and rushing over. Deceit stepped forward and caught him as the prince stumbled. “F-falsehood, Deceit,” Roman reiterated.  
“You do not need to say my name twice, Roman,” Deceit said softly. “I know my place.”  
“Just because you think it’s your place doesn’t mean it is,” a new voice added. Everyone’s heads snapped to see Virgil leaning in the door of his own bedroom. There was a hostility in his eyes; he’d heard everything that had gone on, especially with all the shouting. “I thought the same, and look at me now,” he mumbled, gesturing one hand down himself. His new outfit. His new family. His new life as one of Thomas’ primary Sides.  
Deceit tried to pull back into his room, but Roman clung to him like a stubborn koala.   
“L-let me go,” he said, trying to prise him off.  
“No,” declared Roman.  
“S-stop! I-I’m _fine!_ I-I don’t need your acceptance! I’m bad! I’m the bad guy!” Deceit shouted, shoving the Side off him. Roman went sprawling on the floor. He looked up at Deceit with the most vulnerable look in his eyes.  
“I am better off alone! I will hurt you all! I am awful! I don’t deserve any love!” Deceit continued, his voice rising as desperate tears began to leak down his face. “I _hate you all and I don’t want to be a part of your family!”_  
He slammed his door closed, and did his best to muffle his sobs in his hands.   
He heard people help Roman up, before a soft _thump_ echoed through the door, like someone had donked their forehead on it. “It’s not good to lie to yourself, Deceit,” Roman murmured through the door. “It’s hypocritical of me, I know, but it _hurts,_ doesn’t it?”  
Deceit curled up as far away from the door as he could and tried to block out Roman’s words.  
“We’re here for you,” Roman stated.  
“Falsehood,” Deceit called back, voice cracking.  
Roman paused. “ _I’m_ here for you,” he corrected earnestly.   
Deceit couldn’t find a lie in that. He bit his lip hard to try and stop the keen that escaped him.   
“You shouldn’t be,” was all he said.  
There was silence on the other side of the door.  
“Deceit, come out,” Logan said.  
“Yes,” Deceit lied, and made no move to exit.  
“Please,” Patton added imploringly.  
Deceit didn’t dignify that with a response. He only wanted to ensure Roman was okay. He wasn’t good with emotions, he wasn’t entirely sure what he was feeling. The tears were weird and painful enough. “I will come out, only if Roman tells you how to get rid of the bruises,” Deceit called.  
“T-this will fade in their own time!” Roman began to fumble. Deceit was up and at the door in a split second, yanking it open with fury in his eyes.  
_“Falsehood,_ ” he hissed.

Roman blanched as the others stared at him. “How do we help you, Roman?” Patton asked gently.  
Roman actually backed away a step. “I-it’s so… _needy,”_ he said, tearing up. “So _pathetic._ I don’t want to ask for it.”  
“You’d rather be in pain?” Virgil asked dryly.   
Roman looked down at his feet. Deceit rolled his eyes. “The bruises are inflicted when the ego is hurt,” he stated. Roman’s head shot up, and Deceit tried to ignore the panic in the prince’s eyes. “And so, to heal the ego, you must do the opposite,” he finished, folding his arms.  
Roman put his head in his hands as the others figured out that statement. “We… have to compliment you?” Logan tentatively clarified.   
Roman groaned, and shook his head. Not in denial, but out of shame. “I-I… forget I said anything, okay? Just-”  
“Roman Sanders, you are a beautiful individual who has the most fantastic ideas, and I will never stop appreciating the hard work you do,” Patton declared firmly, snaring the prince in a hug before he could run away.   
They all watched as a bruise faded away.   
Deceit smiled, even as Roman flushed, and looked away. “Th-thank you, Pat,” Roman mumbled. He was bright red and on the verge of tears, but he almost looked happy.  
“You’re a great guy to talk to,” Virgil said loudly. As everyone looked at him, that passion died in his eyes. His voice shrivelled up but he kept going. “I-I like it when we watch and pick apart Disney movies together. You’re so passionate about what you do, a-and…” Virgil ducked his head, trying to find the right words under scrutiny. “You’re pretty neat,” he finished.   
Roman’s tears fell as more bruises faded. Roman bit his lip painfully hard as a sob tore itself from his body. Logan shifted uncomfortably on his feet. He wasn’t good with these things. “I acknowledge the work you do,” he started. Roman’s head shot up. Logan did his best to smile. “You work harder than me, harder than everyone, like you always have to prove yourself. You do not. Your ideas are valid, if not a little… _extra.”_  
He watched with personal disappointment as an extremely large bruise between Roman’s collarbones faded. Roman fought out of Patton’s grip and huddled away. “Stop!” he shouted, raking a hand across his face to wipe away the tears. “Stop! I don’t want you to fork out compliments out of pity! I want to earn them!”  
The others absorbed this in shock. “Oh, Ro,” Patton breathed, his hands clasped over his mouth. “Y-you don’t have to _earn_ compliments. You don’t have to _earn_ our love.”  
Roman shook his head, backing away. “I-”  
Deceit was behind him, and caught him before he could run. “Roman,” he said gently, the honesty shining in his voice. “We care.”  
They all watched a huge bruise on his stomach fade. Roman froze in place, shaking, before letting out a loud keen, turning and throwing his arms around Deceit. Deceit caught him easily, and let Creativity bury his head in the crook of his neck. He ran a hand up and down his back. “There, there,” he cooed.  
To his surprise, Deceit felt Patton join the hug. Then, Virgil? And even Logan? He must be dreaming. There was no way they’d be touching him willingly. He shoved that thought out of his head and hugged the prince in his arms tighter. This was for Roman. It was flattering to see the others would go this far for their friend.

Roman pulled back out of the embrace, tears dried in the satin of Deceit’s cloak. Deceit smiled despite that, running through how he was going to treat the fabric later, if he could save it in his head. Then he scolded himself for such trivial thoughts. There were more important things to worry about.

Roman rubbed his eyes with the heel of his palm, and hugged himself self-consciously. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled.  
“You have nothing to apologise for,” Logan said, matter-of-factly.   
“Hey, Princey,” Virgil piped up, bumping Roman’s hip with his own. “You wanna watch a movie with me? So we can rip it apart?”  
Roman smiled. “That sounds marvellous,” he admitted quietly.   
“I’ll get started on dinner, then,” Logan said, already heading towards the stairs. “Patton, I could use your assistance.”  
Patton nodded enthusiastically. “Oki-doki-loki!” he chirped.  
“And Deceit?” Logan called back over his shoulder.  
Deceit froze, having been trying to sneak away quietly.   
“Please join us for dinner,” Logan stated, attempting to flash a somewhat awkward, but genuine smile at Deceit. Deceit blinked. His mouth opened and closed. He tried to formulate an answer, but Logan disappeared down the stairs before he could.  
Virgil went down as well, Roman tailing after him. Roman paused as well, before turning back. “Deceit?”  
Deceit stared at him.  
“Thank you,” he said earnestly. “You’re welcome to join us.” Virgil nodded as well, and off they went, downstairs.  
Patton lingered next to Deceit, rubbing his arm awkwardly. “Um,” he started.  
Deceit didn’t turn and look at him, but dropped his head. His hat was discarded in his room, he felt bare without it. Patton fumbled with words. “I-I’m sorry.”  
Deceit side-eyed Morality. “You do not need to apologise,” he said.  
Patton shook his head. “No, no! I’m _really, very_ sorry. For distrusting you.”  
“Literally every second sentence out of my mouth is a lie,” Deceit deadpanned. “You’d be stupid not to.”  
Patton toed the carpet. “Doesn’t mean I should’ve attacked you.”  
Deceit looked away. “You’re an awful person,” he said, his ability to speak the truth being run dry. “I certainly don’t forgive you, and I will hold it against us forever.”  
He extended a hand tentatively. Patton smiled, that bright, broad smile that had never been directed at him before, and took his hand, shaking it firmly. “Thank you, Dee,” he said gently. “This’ll be the start of something new. Just you wait.”  
He went down the stairs and to the Commons, and the snake-like Side followed him.   
“I don’t believe you,” Deceit said happily.


End file.
